Dream On
by Goddess of the Books
Summary: All the lies have been unraveled, my heart laid bare, my sanity destroyed and for what? The sake of a single corpse. That's all I have now, and to think I had it all. If only I could go back and just say no to all of this. Even the best of mages can't send me back in time though, and if there ever was one, I probably killed them, because that's just my luck.
1. The Assassin

**After a long addiction to Skyrim and adoration for the dark brotherhood, I wanted to know what made Cicero who he is. He's such an interesting and deep character that I decided that I had to know what turned him from an assassin to a crazed jester. This is my take on what happened, enjoy!**

**The Assassin**

Another contract is waiting for me when I return, but we are slowly running out. I have a few days to rest before this one though. Thank Sithis for that, I've been running nonstop it seems. The Cheydinhal Sanctuary was doing well right now, but slowly failing. I arrived here a mere month ago from the Bruma Sanctuary. Alisanne Dupre is the Listener, and she and the others welcomed me warmly, treating me well. My old family, ach, it's better not to think of such things.

This Sanctuary is pleasant, quite nice really. They understand my pain, my suffering. I lost my old family, I am the lone survivor. I shake away those thoughts, returning to the present. I walk through the dark and comforting halls to my room. To most anyone else, these halls would be disturbing and dark, but not to an assassin. Not to a member of the Dark Brotherhood. To one of us, it is home, through and through.

I glance at the contract. It's in a small nearby village. It's for an ex-bandit by the name of Ralond who lives alone. Easy target it seems, as he is trying to move on from that life he will be unsuspecting of such an intricate plot to kill him. I cannot help the smile that tugs at my lips, for the art of the kill is truly one worth savoring. The crimson blood that pours from their body, the way the light in their eyes slowly fades, it's an intimate act truly, more intimate than a kiss, more intimate than love. I shall leave for the contract tomorrow, no point in the delay.

I collapse onto my bed, feeling physically and mentally drained. Such a long day, traveling for hours upon my trusty horse. He's a powerful chestnut bay named Thunder. He was a gift, I did not name him. He's a good horse though, strong and fast. He has served me well throughout my many adventures. I gather my strength and rise, changing into more suitable sleeping attire. I sigh and crawl wearily into bed, closing my eyes and looking forward to tomorrow, such a promising day.

I wake up at around nine or so. It's Morndas, the day of the kill. I get up and brush my teeth and hair, taking pride in my appearance, as it is the last thing people see before they die. I tie back my red hair, leaving it in a loose braid and don my Dark Brotherhood armour. It keep it clean, meticulously so, as appearance is important to me, ever since I was fourteen.

_The children stand around me, poking and prodding, laughing. They laugh and laugh, making fun of me for looking strange. With a slight build, defined features, auburn hair, creamy skin and dark, amber eyes, I was odd. The people where I was all had dark skin, dark hair and dark eyes. Nothing like me, I was exotic, beautiful, but a misfit. I never belonged._

"_His clothes are funny too! So strange! Look at him! He doesn't belong here! Go home to your mum! Oh wait, you don't have a mum! Orphan! Orphan! Orphan!" They catcalled and teased me daily. It was true though; I wore odd clothes, and had no mother to run to. I had been abandoned at a young age, and have no memories of my parents. I stayed at the orphanage._

_I break free of the circle, running from the taunting and the teasing. They chase me, their long legs pulling them ever closer, like snarling, ravenous dogs they descend upon me._

"_Run Cicero! Run like the coward you are!" Something snapped inside me. I felt my anger burn white hot. I turned on them, making those closest to me freeze. This was new; I had never confronted the mob before. My amber eyes burn with hate and rage as I stare them down. A few of them run off, leaving about 7. I advance, and 3 more back away, fearing the rage they saw seething within me, lurking just beneath the surface._

_I draw my hunting knife from my boot, knowing that these sorry creatures are going to die. One more looks about nervously before bolting, leaving only 3. I charge them suddenly; nimbly dodging a clumsy punch aimed my way. I dive between two of them and leap upon one's back, grabbing his shoulder and slitting his throat. Scarlet blood bursts from his severed neck, and I leap off him, turning to the others. They look at me, terrified, and I smile. Revenge is so, very, sweet._

I shake my head, remembering that day vividly; the beginning to my assassin career. I had no form then, no tact, just malice and pent up anger. But it was a start, and a good one. After that I ran away, and the Bruma Sanctuary took me in, training me. I grab my main dagger, the others already tucked into various places in my armour. I fasten it to my belt and leave the Sanctuary, saying a quick hello to Rasha, a Khajit who was one of the first to welcome me and the leader of this Sanctuary. He has been nothing but kind to me and I appreciate it, though he does seem to run hot and cold.

I mount Thunder and begin riding to the village and by the time I get there, its mid afternoon. I dismount and quickly change into normal clothes, as my Dark Brotherhood armour would attract a lot of unwanted attention. I head to the inn, hoping to find some information about him. If not, I'll just work a bit harder. Just my luck, the man himself is within, sitting and drinking merrily. He is easily the largest man in the room, much taller than myself and built like an ox. He's around 6'4 or so, yet acts as if he wouldn't hurt a fly. I walk over to him, a plan rapidly formulating in my mind.

"Excuse me sir, I'm in a bit of a predicament and require some help. As you are by far the most suited for the job, I thought perhaps you could help me out?" He turns to me, never losing his smile. He is a very, very big man… He puts down the tankard of mead he was drinking and stands up, towering over me, as I stand at 5'9.

"And what is it that you need, stranger?" He bellows, his voice deep and thick. I can't help but notice all of his scars, they seem to be endless. The rest of the patrons in the inn merely converse, paying us no heed. I chuckle in my mind, this is going perfectly. All that's left of this plan is the execution, literally.

"I'm afraid my wagon got stuck in some mud and I can't pull it loose on my own. Can you help me?" I ask smoothly, the lie coming easily. As I rode into town, I couldn't help but notice the mud, and mud is an easy asset, as it tends to mess things up and get things stuck. The big man laughs merrily.

"I'll help you; just show me where this wagon of yours is!" He says boisterously. I lead him outside and down the path, seeming very focused and aware of my surroundings, when really I'm observing him. He doesn't look around, doesn't look wearily into the forest, this man is confident. He knows his skills and strengths, but what he doesn't know is mine.

I lead him to a small clearing shrouded by tall grass I found earlier. I motion towards it and he steps off the path. He walks into the clearing, searching. I pull my blade from its sheath silently, and feel the alertness and eagerness of the kill filling me up. With two steps I am upon him, one hand covering his mouth and the other hand driving my blade into his lungs. It's a stretch but I manage, feeling the warm crimson lifeblood flow onto my gloved hands.

His knees go weak and give out under him, and he falls to the ground. A clean kill and a very good one, I chuckle to myself, pleased. I wipe my blade on his shirt and whistle for my horse. Thunder comes galloping up and I leap astride him, feeling his powerful muscles ripple beneath his thick hide. The man isn't far out; the townsfolk will find him within the day. I nudge Thunder in the right direction and whisper into his ear, urging him to run.

He bolts, his legs pumping beneath him and his mane flying free. I cling tightly, enjoying the sheer speed of the animal. Just before I reach the Sanctuary I pull Thunder back a bit, and he slows. I dismount and lead him to a small stream where I bathe and change into my armour. Image is everything. I walk into the Sanctuary, and Rasha drops a coin purse into my hands, not that I need it. Alisanne smiles at me as I walk by.

Alisanne is only visiting, and has a private home in Bravil. She and Rasha have been discussing re-opening a training center in Black Marsh, but neither seemed very serious about the possibility. We lack the resources to really pull it off.

I sigh and collapse into my bed as I had done before. I've been busy as of late, killing a baroness and her handmaiden, a Grand Champion and not to mention my most recent kill. I sigh, content with my performance as of late. Many years of training have gotten me to this point. Its early morning, and I don't even bother to change out of my gear, I just sleep.

My eyes open abruptly, severing my ties to the wicked, awful dream. My family, I watched them die. All of them! Like once wasn't enough, I now have to carry that weight around, the fact that while my entire family died, I lived. What's so special about me? Why did I live when everyone else died? I sit up run my fingers through my hair, frustrated. Why me?

I get up and prepare for the day, not wanting the others to see my distress. I walk into the dining hall and am met by solemn faces. I sit next to Rasha and an Imperial woman named Kallie. She's a sarcastic girl with a mean streak a mile long. She never holds her tongue, but she rarely fails to amuse me either.

"Wayrest is lost, and the Sanctuary has been destroyed. We just got word today. There were no survivors." A short bark of laughter sounds from Kallie, and her bitterness is evident.

"Looks like Cicero was lucky. We could use some luck right now. We're losing our footing throughout Tamriel! Soon we'll be naught but a ghost story old fish wives tell children to scare them into obedience." Kallie's tone is sharp and I flinch at her almost accusing tone, and around the table I hear a soft murmur as my brothers and sisters converse quietly amongst themselves. Night Mother watch over us all, for I believe Kallie's right.

"I wasn't finished Kallie so I suggest you hold your tongue for once before I cut it out of your mouth!" The sharp hissing tone the Khajit used was filled with venom, and the promise was not an empty one. Kallie instantly falls silent, which is a very rare occasion. Rasha continues slowly.

"The Black Hand has come to an agreement, the Corinthe Sanctuary is to be closed, and they will join our ranks. You will welcome them all warmly or by Sithis I will send you to the Void!" He says angrily. I flinch back from his snarling tone and he curls his lip in disgust at the feebleness of it all. With the Corinthe Sanctuary closed, there will be only two left in all of Tamriel. This one and a small, discreet Sanctuary in the forests of Skyrim. Rumor has it they are no better off than us. The Brotherhood is slowly dying, and we cling to our old ways. Sithis preserve us.

We eat silently, each of us deep in thought at Rasha's words. The Corinthe Sanctuary is at least alive and well. I finish my food quickly and quietly, standing up and leaving the table edgily, not wanting to anger Rasha further. I am no wimp, but the Khajit is unpredictable at times, and I do not want to be so close when he is in one of his rages.

When our Brothers from Corinthe get here I will welcome them warmly, much as I was welcomed. They deserve no less, as they are forced to give up their home to come here. It seems that precious little is going right at the moment, and I can only hope that things pick up. I have no desire to be forced to leave again. This is my home now; I shall defend it like I did the one in Bruma before it fell.

Two weeks drag by uneventfully, without any contracts for me to fulfill. Boredom is setting in, though there are plenty of new people to talk to. The Brotherhood in Corinthe was not huge, but it wasn't small either. Alisanne returned to her home in Bravil, and a situation there is threatening everything and everyone there. The whole city is in an uproar, and there is violence and blood everywhere. Alisanne actually had to hire mercenaries to protect her home.

Apparently the war is between the two largest Cyrodiil skooma traffickers who both want dominance. It's a control war, and those tend to be very nasty, I speak from experience, though that is a tale for another time. A few days ago, the Lucky Old Lady statue was destroyed, marking the full onslaught of the war. How ironic! Perhaps the remains of the statue should be renamed to the Unlucky Old Lady! I am concerned for Alisanne's safety though, for she treated me very well and is a friend to me.

"Cicero." A voice hisses from behind me. I turn to see Rasha, knowing it was him merely because only Khajit speak in such a hissing manor. His face is grave, and I expect the worst automatically. It seems that wherever I go, trouble seems to follow.

"Alisanne was forced to leave her home to protect the Night Mother's crypt. You know the importance of protecting the crypt, don't you Cicero. Yes, the Night Mother is our unholy matron, and she must be protected." He seems to be rambling, reassuring himself of something perhaps?

"Rasha let me go and help her! I understand the importance, let me be of assistance! The Night Mother must be protected at all costs, and Alisanne cannot do this alone." I have to help her! If something were to happen to the Night Mother, there would be no Dark Brotherhood.

"I am sending Garnag and Andronica to help Alisanne, do not worry Cicero. We need you here though, to defend the Sanctuary. We are at our weakest right now, and cannot afford to be unprotected. Surely Cicero understands this?" I feel like screaming. I have done nothing here! But Rasha is our leader and I must respect his decision. His hissing voice is grating on my already frayed nerves, making me edgy. I nod my consent.

"Of course Rasha, I shall stay and defend Sanctuary." Rasha looks relieved, not noting the frosty undertone in my voice. He hands me a contract and I feel my heart sink. While I will enjoy it, I'm not sure how well I'll be able to focus. I accept it and Rasha stalks off, leaving me alone.

The contract is for a silk merchant in a larger city. It's too late to think about starting the contract today so I merely retire to my room, feeling weary despite my lack of contracts and activity. I fall asleep almost instantly, my dreams once again filled with the screams of my brethren. Will I never escape them?

I wake at dawn, my sleep having been light and unpleasant, troubled as has become normal. It seems that I may never get any peace. But I guess that's just the way of things when you're an assassin. I yawn and get up, still tired. I do my usual morning routine and prepare for to set out.

I enter the dining hall and grab some vegetables and a bit of horker meat and head out, eating as I go. I finish eating and mount Thunder, setting out to kill the silk merchant. I almost wonder what it is she did, but that's none of my business. I only have to kill her, not wonder what she did to anger someone. I ride for the better part of the day, finally reaching the city during the mid afternoon. I enter the city, automatically searching for escape routes in case my plan goes awry.

I make a mental map of it, and keep to the shadows, heading towards the home of the silk merchant. It's a nice house; if I were a thief I might be much more interested. As it is, I'm only interested in a single thing that lies within, the merchant herself. I climb up the side of the house, easily finding handholds in the bricks. I scale the walls, using mostly upper body strength and using my feet when I can. Soon I am at her window. I peer into the room; it's empty, perfect. I push open the window and leap in, landing soundlessly.

I walk to the door, opening it a crack and peering out. The house is well decorated, very tasteful and smartly placed. It's very neat and consists of mostly darker colors. I rather like it, and I can't help but wonder what Alisanne's house looks like. Is it dark and thickly decorated? Or is it lighter and more open?

I banish those thoughts and focus on the kill. I creep silently down the hall, and hear a voice. The seamstress is singing it seems, but it is time for the songbird's to die. I follow the sound to the end of the hall, I press my ear to the door and hear the singing clearly. It's a song my mother used to sing to me, the one memory I have of her. It's a simple and sweet song, and I hate the songbird for it. How dare she sing mother's song? I open the door and see a pretty woman with long, wavy brown hair and alabaster skin. She isn't facing me, so I draw my dagger and come up behind her.

"The Dark Brotherhood says hello." I whisper in her ear before drawing my blade across her throat. She wails pitifully as she dies, and it turns into a gurgle as she sinks to the ground. I run to the window and look out. I'm fortunate; this window looks out just over the wall at the forest beyond. I pull it open, smirking at her foolishness for leaving the windows unlocked.

I step out onto the ledge right as the door opens. A young woman walks in, takes one look at the body and screams. I swear under my breath for not checking to see if the songbird was alone before the kill. I leap back inside, drawing my blade. She lets out a strangled cry and stumbles back away from me. I pursue her, running towards her to silence her screams. She knows, and one of the unspoken rules is that there must be NO witnesses unless they are supposed to see.

She stumbles and falls, huddling pitifully against the wall and begging for mercy. She has red hair and bright green eyes. A light dusting of freckles cover her nose and upper cheeks, making her pale skin a bit dusky in places. Her eyes are wide with terror as she watches my silent approach. She's sobbing, and I almost pity the poor girl, she can't be a day over twenty and was not meant to die. I stab her in the chest three times before leaving, and push her innocence from my mind. It does not do to dwell on those that I have killed; I learned that the hard way.

I leap back onto the window ledge and take a deep breath. I push off, leaping towards the wall, arms outstretched. I land in a crouch, barely managing to keep my balance. I climb down the city wall, and jog to the stables. I whistle when I'm pretty close, and Thunder gallops towards me. Sometimes it seems like his energy is limitless. I mount him and begin the ride back, knowing I'm going to have to spend the night somewhere tonight.

I pass through a small town and decide to stop at the inn there. It's called the Strutting Sabercat. An odd name, but many inns have strange names it seems. Though this one seems rather familiar... I give Thunder to the stable hand and enter the inn. I pull out ten coins and buy a room for the night. I sit down for a hot meal and am immediately ambushed by a short, slender woman with curly black hair and big brown eyes.

"Cicero!" She screeches animatedly. She grins, her full lips painted a dark red that contrasts her tan skin. Luciana rushes over to me and hugs me tightly, showing her straight white teeth.

"Why, I thought you'd never return!" I remember why this place sounds familiar now. I came here about a year ago. I stayed for nearly three weeks, recovering from a particularly nasty fight with a troll. Luciana helped nurse me back to health, and she enjoyed my company quite a bit, as travelers were rare in small towns like this one. It's off the main road, and you only really find it if you're looking for it, or you happen to stumble upon it when you're lost and delirious. But she was particularly fond of me and insisted I visit. I promised I would with no real intention to and smiled, they don't call me the Fool of Hearts for nothing.

"Ah Luciana, it's been some time. You are looking well and haven't aged a day. How do you fare?" I ask politely, trying to calm her down. She babbles on about some boring things like farming and livestock while I pretend to listen. She sits down across from me and continues to blather on about random things, until she says something that catches my attention.

"My sister lives in Skyrim now, in the city of Dawnstar. She said that the Dark Brotherhood killed some old woman there, and that she hadn't even heard of them until then. Have you heard of the Dark Brotherhood Cicero?" She asks innocently, eyes wide. I cock my head to the side, irritated by the question.

"Of course, the Dark Brotherhood is a powerful assassin's guild. Not so long ago, they were one of the most feared guilds in all of Tamriel. The Dark Brotherhood has toppled entire governments, and killed Kings and Emperors alike. Mothers used to tell stories of the legendary assassins to scare children into obedience, saying that they would kill bad little children. That's not true though, they only come to those who perform the Black Sacrament, which is some sort of taboo ritual." I explain, careful not to reveal more as not to draw suspicion. Her eyes are wide as saucers, and for a moment I'm half worried that they'll just fall out of her head. That would be rather comical.

"I'm in need of rest so if you'll excuse me." I stand up and walk to my room. I change into night clothes and lay down, my eyes drifting shut. For once my dreams are not torturous and filled with death. They are happy, and of better times. I sleep well for once, and at dawn I gather my things and leave, not bothering to say goodbye.

I finally make it back to the Sanctuary around noon, and the second I open the door, I know that something's wrong. I look around and feel my blood turn to ice. A great stone coffin rests in the middle of the sanctuary, but the only one who returned is Garnag. Alisanne and Andronica, they are dead. We gather around Garnag while he tells the gruesome tale that has even me wishing I had not heard. Alisanne is dead, killed by mages fire. And Andronica was cut to pieces. I wince at the retelling, and can already see their ghosts in his eyes.

Night Mother protect us, I pray that we're not next.

**Hello my lovelies! I love writing this story because I get to really explore Cicero's sanity. If you happen to like Lord of the Rings, please feel free to check out my other story, Don't Wake Me Up! Thanks a million to all my amazing readers. I like reviews but it's up to you. I must admit though, reviews make me update faster!**

**-Goddess out**


	2. The Jester

**Hey there! This is where things get interesting, and where everything slows down. This chapter fascinated me and really grabbed my attention. It took awhile to write but I think it paid off.**

**The Jester**

It's been a month. A whole month without a Listener, and we are suffering. We cannot hear the pleas of the people of Tamriel, we cannot receive their contracts. We've been forced to roam the streets, listening to the talk of the town. We cannot look weak, not now. If we look weak then the Dark Brotherhood will die out once and for all. To help combat this, the remaining members of the Black Hand are restoring an ancient position. They call it a Keeper. A Keeper is one whose sole purpose in the Brotherhood is to protect the remains of the Night Mother. It is said that they will make their decision tomorrow, and that the person will be given one last contract. I can scarcely imagine having only one more contract.

I stand up from the table and excuse myself, wanting to train a bit to release some stress. The contracts are lessening noticeably now. I can count them on my fingers and only a few trickle in. We are dying, though everyone keeps pretending we're not. I don't see the point, we might as well accept it, it's not like there's anything we can honestly do. But I guess we must retain our hope, and pray to the Night Mother that conditions improve. What I wouldn't give for a Listener. But alas, there is no Listener. All I can do is wait, wait and listen, and watch.

I finish my routines and retire for the night. I sleep soundly, escaping into dark, silent bliss. There are no screams, no wicked evil wails of pain and agony, only silence, thank Sithis.

The sun rises far too soon, and I rise with it. I prepare for the day and head into the dining hall, and see everyone already there. Then it hits me, the Black Hand is announcing their decision today. I join the crown of people to see who the lucky one was, to see who was cursed with the honor of becoming the Keeper. To see who performs their last kill. Rasha stands proudly before the group, and we fall silent. His golden, cat-like eyes bore into us, as we wait patiently for the announcement.

"Cicero, you have been chosen, see me in my quarters please." Rasha hisses in his usual, cat-like voice. My heart stops. As proud as I am to have been chosen, I have one kill left. I numbly follow him, walking silently down the corridors than will become my permanent home. It's not a home now; it's a prison, a tomb for the living, a tomb for me.

"Cicero, as you know you will be given one last contract before you take on your duties as Keeper. I have chosen one I believe you will enjoy. Kill well, Brother." Rasha hisses, handing me the contract, my last contract. I take it and return to my room before gingerly opening the papers and reading them.

_Kill the Jester. He can be found in Bravil where a woman named Alisanne Dupre used to live. If he's not there, can be found in an inn by the name of the Lonely Bard. Speak to the Jester, tell him, his death has arrived, and then send him to the Void. Your reward will be great if you succeed, and even greater if you do not kill him immediately._

_-Jessabelle Solverus_

Irony, sweet, twisted irony. Rasha did not open the contract but he must have known. Now I must go to her home, or what's left of it. I chuckle darkly, half in fury half in honest mirth at my own expense. I don my armour and pack food and another set of armour. I shall walk in and they will all see me, they will all know the Dark Brotherhood lives.

**-Time Skip-**

I prowl the streets of Bravil, invisible to the eyes of those who do not search for me. I am a shadow, blending seamlessly into the night like I was born to. And in a way, I was. There are no records of my birth, I merely showed up at the orphanage when I was three. There are no traces of my passing, except for the people who I leave with my name upon their lips, but never my last name, only Cicero. The only thing I have of my parent's is an ebony pendant shaped like the sun. It has my name engraved on it, in the center. No one from my old life remembers me, they only ever really thought of me as freak, and people like me aren't exactly remembered. I would know. Eight years later I went back to that place. I went back strong, a member of the Brotherhood. They did not remember, though I remembered them. They raised me, cared for me, and yet I slip into the recesses of their mind, as though I was never there at all.

Up ahead I see it, the house, HER house. I walk up and push the door open, revealing a dim hallway and simple furniture. I scour the house, but I find no sign of the Jester. I did however, find a diary. Her diary. I read it, every single word, and found my name. She mentioned me, mentioned a man whose pain is tangible, a man who faces his agony because there is nowhere left to hide from it. A man who does not fear the burning wraith of Sithis like any other mortal, because he welcomes it with open arms, hoping that it will replace the pain he feels within. A man who has run so far, only to look back and realize he hasn't taken a single step.

How could she know this? How is it possible? I did not speak to Alisanne enough for her to know this; I did not speak with anyone enough for them to know this. It is not possible, yet it happened. She knew, she saw, and she understood. Alisanne, with her blonde hair and entrancing, almond shaped blue eyes that remind me so much of the sea. Her angled features, strong jaw and high cheekbones that marked her as a half-breed, a mix between an Imperial and a high elf. She takes more after her father, the elf in my opinion. Not that it matters anymore, she's dead. I feel a twinge in my heart as I think on that, and bitterness once again envelops me.

I leave her home, taking her journals with me and head to the Lonely Bard. I enter the inn and instantly notice him, the Jester, sitting in the corner, watching the world with a tormented smile. His skin is pale, his wide eyes a strange orange color. Not amber, not gold, but orange. His hair is brown and his build is small and lanky. There is a peculiar look in his eyes, and as the orange orbs flick carelessly over to me, I can feel the malice that burns like a raging inferno within him. His smile widens, and he stands, motioning for me to follow him.

He heads up the stairs to a room in the back, away from the others. I follow cautiously, my hand never leaving my blade. I walk in and find him sitting on the bed, grinning widely, insanity bubbling up behind his orange eyes. He cocks his head slightly, seeming to be fascinated by me, death incarnate to his twisted mind.

"Oh you came! I just KNEW she'd send you! That perfect, wonderful sister of mine! AHAHAHA!" His laughter is high, as is his voice. Laughter is not the right word; it's more of an insane cackle. I am profoundly disturbed by the man, and that he knew exactly who I was and why I was here. How did he know his sister put out the contract?

"The Dark Brotherhood has come, your death approaches. Do you not fear me?" I ask honestly, the question nagging at me. He rolls his eyes and smiles widely.

"Of COURSE not!'Twas I who gave you the contract! Indirectly of course, I gave the specific instructions to my sister, who relayed them to you." I am surprised, who would ask for a contract on themselves? He may be disturbed and not right in the mind but I didn't think anyone was insane enough to do that. Perhaps he is further gone than I had previously thought.

"You hired us? Why?" Normally I would just kill the fool but he interests me and it is my last contract. I might as well make it one to remember. He laughs again, and I hear the echo of it repeating again and again in my mind, even after it ends.

"I am tired, so tired. To live, day after day, with the burden of my past pressing down on my shoulders. I suffocate despite the air in my lungs, I choke, despite my lack of food or drink, I chough, despite my lack of illness, I am dying, dying from the wickedness that clings to my mind. I can see it in your eyes, you know the pain of which I speak but you do not let it hold you like I do, no, you restrain what you feel, hide your heart away so it is not broken again." His voice is so upbeat, so uncaring, so happy, and I shudder. How does he know? Alisanne's diary was untouched, how does he know the things I hide?

"We're not as different as you might think, you and I. No, no, no, no, we are alike! You and I, we both lost so much that we cared about but you, you are different, so different. You sought revenge, you knew, you KNEW!" His voice rises at the end, and he laughs again, he laughs for a long time. This man, he is insane. I should kill him right now but I find that I cannot. I cannot help but stay my hand this once, at least until he finishes explaining. After that, he will die.

"Do me a dying wish, take my journal. Take it, and keep me alive. Don' let me be forgotten, remembered only as a shadow in a painting, evanescent to any eye but that of my sister's. They will all forget, that is their way. But you, you can keep the journal, keep me alive through it, though my mortal form will be dead. That way, I will not disappear, not completely, not yet." Such a simple request, so I nod, understanding his pain. I will grant the wish of this man, this twisted, dying man. He deserves at least that.

I draw my dagger looking him in the eye. The familiar thrill does not come, the excitement and quickening of my heart. In fact, everything seems to slow down. He closes his eyes, his mouth twisting upwards into something that resembles a smile mixed with a grimace. He turns away from me and takes his final breath, then begins to laugh. His laughter echoes throughout the room, making me shudder. I slit his throat, giving him a quick and painless death. My final kill, is complete.

I grab his journal from his desk and start towards the door. I wont read it though, I just don't want to. I don't want to know what happened to him to cause him to become like this, the thought makes me shudder. His laughter still echoes in my brain, and I can't get the noise out of my head. I leave the room and return to the Sanctuary.

I walk in and Rasha is the first one to greet me. I nod and he hands me a sack of gold, my final payment. I feel as though something is terribly wrong, perhaps there is, perhaps I'm simply tired after a long day. I excuse myself before Rasha can say anything and head to my room. The Fool of Hearts, the assassin, the old me is no more. Now I am the Keeper of the Night Mother, an honored position but not one I'm sure I want. No sense complaining though, perhaps I will enjoy this new position. Who knows.

The Keeping tomes are on my desk, and I really ought to read them. I sigh and head over there, sitting down and lighting a candle so I can see better and open the book. I pour over the tomes, reading everything and not noticing the pangs of hunger. Eventually I hear a knock at the door and look up. Kallie walks in without waiting, I guess the knock was just to announce her arrival.

"So, your very last kill was a glorious success, and now you start your new life and duties as Keeper. If I know you, I know you're disappointed, and Cicero, I know you pretty well. So spill, what are your thoughts? You know I wont snitch, we have Liazany for that." I roll my eyes when she mentions the feisty and gossiping High Elf. If she wasn't such a good assassin I'd kill her myself.

"You want my opinion? I think it's an honor. I was specifically chosen by the Black Hand to be the Night Mother's Keeper. That is truly a reward in itself." Kallie rolls her eyes and snorts derisively.

"Bull crap. I know you better than that Ciccy. Come on, what do you really think? You can trust me." Kallie closes the door and sashays over to me, her hips swaying seductively. I scowl at her nickname for me, she knows I hate it. She smirks at my displeasure and pulls up a chair, tossing her silky, long brown hair over one shoulder and sitting her elbow on the table, resting her chin on her palm. She blinks, her entrancing brown eyes and dark hair a massive contrast to her pale skin and red lips. She truly is beautiful. Too bad I think of her as a sister.

"All right, fine. I'm disappointed, who wouldn't be? The kill was my life, my escape, my joy, the hunt was my passion and prerogative. I loved everything about it. Now I have to give it all up. I meant what I said about it being an honor though. It really is, I just wish it could have been someone else. I am built for the life of an assassin, not the life of a house pet, and it seems that's what they want from me." I run my fingers through my hair in frustration, agitated by this sudden turn of events. Kallie crosses her legs, her tight black outfit shifting against her body like a second skin.

Unlike the rest of us, Kallie is a very personal killer, and likes to get to know her target before killing them. Get them vulnerable, and then kill them. So naturally, her clothing is not like ours. Her armour is tight black leather pants and a low-cut black leather vest that shows off her shapely neck and shoulders. Knee high black leather boots with red trim and a thick red sash around her middle completes the look. As meager as that sounds for our line of work, she killed an emperor, and is one of our best assassins. She knows what she's doing, and takes advantage of the simplicity of the average drunken male mind. Surprisingly, she's all business and much more serious than plenty of the others.

"I knew you would be from the moment they said it. I know how much you enjoy being an assassin and I honestly wish there was something I could do. You were always particularly skilled with that dagger of yours… A shame that such talent is going to waste." She sighs and I close the Keeping tome, knowing I wont read any more tonight. Kallie has a habit of distracting people.

"Why are you here Kallie?" I ask bluntly, not understanding the point of her visit. She rolls her eyes, scowling at my blatant question. She sighs dramatically, thought she's always dramatic so it's nothing new.

"Wow, I feel so welcome now Ciccy!" She sighs again and rolls her eyes. She stands up and walks to the door. "I was thinking perhaps a little celebration was in order. Few people leave the assassin business alive, and you have managed so I believe a toast is in order!" She opens it and leans out, grabbing a bottle of fine, aged wine. She closes the door and returns to her seat. A fine port, I'm impressed. I arch an eyebrow, and she merely smiles.

"Where did you get it?" We all have our connections but that kind of wine is something you might find in an emperor's personal collection. Her signature smirk returns and the flecks of gold in her eyes shift slightly, reflecting the small flame from the candle. She laughs and it sounds light and airy, like bells.

"Does it matter? Lets just drink and not worry about where it's from!" She smiles and an image of the Jester appears in my mind. I shake it off and quickly focus on Kallie and the wine. I take the bottle from her and grab two glasses before opening the bottle and pouring the contents into the waiting glasses. Anything that will get rid of the Jester is a good thing in my mind, even if it's only temporary. If only I could thank her. I drink, not worrying about anything past the current moment. Right here right now is the only thing that matters.

**-time skip-**

The rest of the night is a blur. It was a lot of drunken laughter, I remember that much. That single bottle was large and well known for its rarity and exceptionally high alcohol content. We had a lot more than we really should have had, as we ended up drinking it all. I stretch, and arm brushes against a curious warmth, I look over to find Kallie passed out beside me. She looks young and innocent, wearing Dark Brotherhood mage armour. Wait, why is she wearing that? I try to recall what she was doing with that but I only draw a blank.

All of a sudden she takes a deep breath and stretches, yawning. She lies on my bed while I sit in the chair right beside it. How did that happen? I'm always the one who makes others sleep on the chair, or with me depending on who it is. Doesn't matter right now, I should focus on remembering what happened. The armour that normally on my chest is sitting on a table, leaving me in only a thin black undershirt and the rest of my armour, minus the cowl and gloves, so only the pants and boots.

My head is pounding, that's never a good sign. I rub my temples; I feel a major hangover coming on. Lucky for me, Kallie is a skilled alchemist, and knows a dozen cures for a hangover. She used to run an apothecary before she joined the Dark Brotherhood. Rumor has it she lost it when her apprentice was murdered and hunted down her assassin and killed him, though not before torturing him. Her apprentice was like a daughter to her, she had raised the girl since she was six. Her name was Lylia. No one really knows much more than that, she never talks about it. Perhaps this is an opportunity to find out more, perhaps I already did and don't remember.

"Perhaps you should just ask me whatever it is you're wondering about instead of just sitting there looking lost." I look up at Kallie, her hazel and gold flecked eyes staring into my amber ones. She smirks, though it's a bit strained. Her head must hurt more than mine, I remember that she drank a bit more than me.

"Why did you join the Brotherhood?" I ask, she looks taken aback by the blunt question. Her surprise fades to sadness that I know has lingered there a long time. I can see her pain and sadness in her eyes, just like she can see mine.

"I found Lylia when she was six. She was so little and she was all alone. She was in the middle of town, sitting in the shadows. She was so tiny, I had to help her. So I took her in, I raised her and taught her how to mix potions and make salves and poultices. She learned well and I treated her like she was my daughter, I loved her like she was my daughter. When she was fourteen, a man came into town. He stopped by the apothecary and asked for a bit of poison. Seemed normal enough as there were some wild animals that wandered near the outskirts of town, so we gave it to him and he left. The next day, I sent Lylia off to go run a few errands… and she never came back." Her eyes water a bit as she talks about Lylia and I can't help but feel bad for her.

"I went out to look for her and soon enough I found her. Atop her mangled corpse lay a note. It said, "You should examine the body a bit more carefully," so I did. He killed her with the poison he bought the other day." Her voice cracks and a single tear falls. I get up and move to sit down beside her. She moves over a bit and I sit.

"I had to avenge her, I couldn't let Lyria's death go unpunished. So I hunted him down. I tracked him for a long time, out of the town and into the next, always a little behind. But eventually I found him, and as he slept, I broke into his room in his house. It took me awhile but I did. He was sound asleep, so I crept over to him and coated my blade in a paralysis poison. I pressed the blade to his neck and he woke with a start, accidentally nicking his own neck. The terror that was in his eyes as he realized who I was…" She smirks, pleased at her vengeance on the wicked man.

"He would have begged for his life if he could speak but the poison did its job well. I wasn't done though, not by a long shot. I started on his left arm, carving Lyria's name into the skin. I worked my way up his arm, carving it over and over again while he sat there and watched in agony, unable to scream. After I finished that arm, I started on the other one, then I did the same to his chest and legs. When I finished, I coated my blade in the poison he used to kill her and carved her name into his forehead. In his dying breath, he sobbed out her name, and then died a slow, painful death. Shortly after I was contacted by the Brotherhood and here we are." I can't help but shudder a bit at her gruesome tale. It was much more twisted than I had previously thought it would be. Right as I'm about to respond, there's a knock at the door. It seems our conversation must wait.

"Lunch is ready and Rasha is making an announcement." I hear Kyterial call through the door. She is one of the assassins from the Sanctuary that joined with ours. She has dark brown hair, forest green eyes and thin lips. Her skin is darkened from the sun and her heritage. She's a beautiful young Redgaurd Nord mix, which is an odd combination if you ask me. I open the door Kyterial's eyes travel from me to Kallie, she arches a thin brow and her eyes return to me. I shake my head slightly and she nods, a mischievous smile on her lips.

As beautiful as Kallie is, Kyterial is somehow prettier. Her young face and high brows give her an innocent, naïve look while her confident smirk says otherwise. Her caramel skin and dark hair contrast perfectly with her enchanting green eyes while a swirling black tattoo that winds from just above her left eyebrow down to just below her cheekbone give her an air of intrigue. The tattoo is simple, just a few thin black lines swirling and intersecting to form a small, simple design that frames her face and captivates me. It's perfect for her, strange yet beautiful, basic yet intricate, plain yet sensual.

"Thanks Kit, we'll be there in a few minutes." Kallie says from behind me. Kyterial nods and turns on her heel, her long, silky brown hair disappearing from view as she rounds a corner and is gone. Kallie gets up, stretching and yawning.

"Hmm, seems like someone's distracted…" I turn to Kallie, who cocks her head to the side and smiles innocently. I roll my eyes at her before responding, "Is it wrong to wonder what Rasha wants that we all need to be present for?" She shrugs and we head out to the main hall. We sit and a few more people walk in, sitting down and talking quietly.

"The Dark Brotherhood is dying. You all know this so there's no point in denying it. We are sending a single member to a small Sanctuary in Skyrim to tell them of what has happened. That member will be staying there to help out, as they are in dire straights as well." At Rasha's unexpected announcement, we all start talking about what this means and who it might be. Rasha clears his throat, demanding silence.

"Kyterial shall go." At that there is silence. Kit is one of our finest assassins; he can't just send her away like this! Her incredible control of a dagger and sword are a huge asset to the Brotherhood, he can't just send her away! This makes no sense. I look over at Kit, who doesn't seem at all perturbed by this announcement and can't help but wonder if she knew. I wait for some sort of protest but there is only a dull murmur, perhaps they just don't care. I guess I should have expected this; it seems no one cares much any more. We're all doomed anyways.

We disperse without so much as a word, simply leaving. I return to my room, alone. It's not long before I hear a knock at the door, and when I walk over to open it, I am surprised by who stands before me.

"Kyterial?" She walks in unbidden and sits down on my bed. For the first time, she seems flustered. She rubs her temples and I close the door behind her. What could be wrong with her?

"Cicero, I asked him to. I asked to leave to go to the Sanctuary. It was all me. I'm sorry! I have to leave here, I can't explain why but I can't stay." She looks up at me sadly, her eyes filled with hope, hope that I will understand and that I won't ask why. I can't just not ask though.

"Why? You can't just leave us here, not now, not like this. You're one of our best assassins." She looks sad and guilty but determined. I know she won't change her mind. I sigh at her determination and hard headedness.

"I'm sorry Cicero but I can't tell you. I just came here to say goodbye and apologize." I shrug, trying to act nonchalant while inside I feel terribly sad at the loss of such a good assassin, and a friend. Oh well, such is they way of the Dark Brotherhood. We try to be like a family but in the end, something always seems to go wrong. I frown and she stands up. I look into her beautiful green eyes and before I can say a word she wraps me in a tight hug. She smiles sadly and leaves without another word, closing the door behind her. I sigh once more, that seems to be the way of things.

**Hello my lovelies! Hope yall enjoyed that chapter as I can honestly say, I enjoyed writing it very much. This story is perhaps my favorite of the ones I am currently writing simply because I really get to play around with their minds. OK, I have a little question for you all! If given the chance to meet anyone in Skyrim, who would you meet? Until next time,**

**-Goddess out**


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